


Melancholia

by Xyzak_13



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Cheating, M/M, Smut, with someone else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 22:44:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10523445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyzak_13/pseuds/Xyzak_13
Summary: Dan always lies.





	

Dan lied still on the bed, bathed in the white moonlight caught from the open window. He slightly curled his lower legs up to his torso, probably felt the sudden breeze that just blew in. I took the corner of the duvet, pulled it up to cover more of his bare chest. Almost responding to the touch, Dan knitted his brows, gradually extended his legs to the new warmth from the enclosed space; then as if nothing happened, he slowly relaxed his face, and felt deep into sleep again. I looked at the soft duvet that naturally shape to the curve of Dan's body, gently placed my hand on his small waist, and then caressed down to his hip. Dan had a broad shoulder, but his waist was actually quite slim if he didn't overindulge sweets that month. Although I'd always tell him I simultaneously love his stomach fat and his collar bone as I don't care if he was thin or chubby, he called me stupid saying it was a cliché contradiction and I must have preferred one to the other. However, my Dan didn't realize that I couldn't care less about his weight, when looking at him was already a luxury. It’s like when you have a stack of the most delicious, freshly made bacon pancake with warm maple syrup in front of you, all the other food would be so insignificant. To me, Dan was like that, having the ability to make everything else so painfully insignificant.

Dan turned over, slowly opened his eyes, revealing a pair of glistening brown irises that is still full of tiredness. Slowly, he stretched out his hand to rub the sleep out, while pulling the duvet that was sort of clumped together up to his neck. I looked at him sitting up, eyes were drawn to the different shades of light reflecting on his skin as he turned to the opposite side. The pale moon light hit on his soft body, highlighted his neck and the sides of his back, leaving a dark line that accentuated his spine down to his hip. Dan flinched to the touch of my hand on his back- the involuntary action that I half regretted. It was almost too instinctive to touch something so breathtaking to feel regret afterward. 

"No, please." He spoke. I wanted to think that his tone derived from sadness, but it was more from disappointment.

I shook my head, but didn't withdraw my hand like Dan wanted. Instead, I pulled myself closer, threw my arms around his torso that had turned colder from the night breeze, and enclosed him in my chest despite his usual protest. 

I know he was lying.

He'd always lied, a little bit too much actually. He lied to everyone how he and I don't sleep on the same bed; he lied to his mom how much he loves his current girlfriend; he lied to his friends that he has never kissed a guy; and he lied to the world that he is as straight as a stick. 

I gently lifted up Dan’s head that was buried between his knees and pulled him into a deep kiss, more passionate after every minute. I snatched the duvet that was placed between our naked bodies, revealing a vulnerable Dan who was still resisting to my touch. 

Dan was always like this. He would tell me to limit physical interaction with him, when his body told the opposite. He would tell me to not hold his hands in public, when eventually he became so lost that he secretly took my hand and never let it go. He would tell me to not kiss him, when he blushed so much and deepened the kiss until we ran out of breathe. He would tell me to not look at him too long, to not touch him too dearly, to not love him too passionately, but when I held him down and placed kisses all over his body while entering him from behind with those lazy deep thrusts, he moaned loudly and wanted more. 

Dan lied down on his front, shivering to each of the peck I placed on the back of his neck. My hands were all over his body, touching the places that no one else would be allowed to. His eyes tightened, breathing became uneven, hands curled into fist. I turned him over, looked deep into the dark irises that were now drown in lust. I couldn't imagine how much he was hating himself at that moment.

"Baby, I love you. So much." I whispered against his skin, finally stopped touching him to align his back against my chest, then slowly drew deformed circles along his arm.

"I don't love you." He said, while looking aimlessly into the dark night, probably felt half despise and half guilty.

"I know, you hate me." 

Of course, he hated me. I said it before he could. I lost counts how many times he had said so after those passionate and endless make out sections we exchanged. He wasn't shy to express how much he despised the idea of us being together, but he would consent to every despicable things I do; he would yearn for my constant presence when we were outside, would crave for my comfort when he tried to escape from the world's cruelty, and would thirst for my touch during those sleepless long night. 

"We don't love each other, Phil." Dan said, eyes still fixated on some imagery outside the window.

It was like his reflect, to say No to whatever I have to offer, to deny the slightest romantic connection between us, to annihilate every single evidence that we could be together as more than friends. I listened to those so many times, as it they were like chants imprinted somewhere on his eyelid, that whenever he saw me, he would be required to say them out loud. It's hurt, of course, very much so often that my heart would be full of calluses. After 3 years living together, I stopped believing in his meaningless and pretentious defense. Those words would always hurt however, but I just stopped dwelling on the pain. For all I know, love could turn pain into kisses. 

It happened in December, sometime around midnight, when we were at the BBC end of year party. We were both quite drunk, but for different reasons. Dan was upset with his girlfriend, Eva, a controlling freak who called him 10 times over a span of 15 minutes when he was talking to our co-workers. And I was upset with Dan, witnessing him chose to get stuck on an inevitable, dead-end and unhealthy relationship like a moth drawn to flame. He was on the verge of turning insane, being exhausted with Eva's unsympathetic acts but would refused to leave her. She could have tortured him, degraded him, turned him into an absolute worthless mess and he would do nothing but drove to her house at 3am just because she suddenly wanted to watch the new episode of Scream Queen. Dan rationalized all of her irrational actions, and told me that it was love. He didn’t care if she would turn into a jealous, selfish, hysterical bitch, he would still be there, because he loved her. But just like every other things, those saccharine sweet nothings were all buried thousand miles deep after 30 vulgar texts, a screaming call, and too many margaritas with extra shots of tequila. 

"Screw it. Not tonight, I will talk to her tomorrow." Dan dropped his body on our sofa, not even bothered to take off his shoes. He threw his phone across the room, then looked at me all pouting and exhausted. 

“Well, isn’t she the love of your life?” I cringed, hoping Dan wouldn’t be too upset with the sarcastic tone. To my surprise, he looked at me indifferently, then directed his gaze to the bottle of red wine on our counter top. Seeing him having no intention to move, I lifted Dan’s legs up to untie his black Yeezy.

“Ugh…I feel sick. But not sick enough to sleep.” Dan spoke as he stretched his feet, rubbed the fabrics of my jacket between his toes. He pointed at the wine bottle and looked at me again all smiling. “Phillll, please?”

“No. Are you crazy? We drank a lot today.” I scolded him softly. I knew Dan wasn’t a lightweight, but I was sure he couldn’t handle any more alcohol without feeling extremely sick and regretful tomorrow morning. I crawled next to him on the sofa, fixed his damped fringe that stuck messily on his forehead. 

“Phil, why am I not good enough for her?” Dan gave up on the wine, leaned his head on my shoulder and rubbed his face against my neck. “Why doesn’t she trust me?” 

“I don’t know Dan. What do you want to hear? I told you a million times that she is the one who is not good enough for you. In fact, I don’t understand her at all. To me you are the most precious thing in this world, and I love you so much the only thing left to do would be to kill you and keep you in a glass tank so you wouldn’t be defiled and I get to have you for myself.”

And just like that.

One could say that it was out of pity, for him to reckon my hopeless and pathetic love. Or it was just one of the effects of alcohol. Or maybe, Dan was conveniently feeling lonely that night. Dan looked at me with his chocolate eyes, leaned in close, and placed a soft kiss on my lips. I grabbed his hand making him startled, pushed him on the couch, and hungrily kissed him back. It was indescribable. His small waist in my hand, his wet lips on my mouth, his most private and precious part on my fingertip. I made sure to not leave any part of Dan’s body untouched, inside and out. His pretty eyes with dark lashes, his curly brown hair, his pink hardened nipples, his soft butt cheeks, his long legs, his lovely toes. Everywhere on his body was traced with my kisses, some clearer than the others. Dan’s lips, shoulder blades, collar bones, upper arms, nipples, inner thighs were filled with red, deep marks as the skin turned red and raw from continuous kissing. When he started to moan and verbally begged for more, I inserted my lubbed index finger inside him. Dan jerked up, making the finger slip in deeper. I crooked my finger upward and found the soft spot that caused Dan to squirm and panted and moaned. Dan looked like the subject of everyone’s deep dark sexual fantasy, with his legs open wide while glistening precum dripping down his left thigh and bed sheet. When he started to relax, I aligned my penis in front of him, feeling it being swallowed whole. He extended his arms and wrapped it around my neck, asking me to kiss him. I pecked on his lips, but then could not stop. The thrusts and kisses were in sync. The faster and deeper I thrust inside Dan, the more passionate the kiss. I looked at Dan, the boy was so drowned in pleasure that he just let his open lips rubbing against mine, letting the saliva dripping down the corner of his mouth. At that moment, there was no one in the whole world that I wanted to love, spoil, and protect but Dan Howell. When we both came, Dan finally opened his eyes. One drop of tear started rolling down his blushed cheek and disappeared under the pillow. He shut his eyes tight again, and felt into deep sleep. 


End file.
